


Genesis

by spacegayofficial



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, I genuinely have no idea where this is going, basically Reader Gets Some Trauma tm, because I am a bastard, mild existential dread? maybe?, panic attack symptoms, reader is a sole surviver, some skeletons make an appearance, this does have a hint of girl in a box
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegayofficial/pseuds/spacegayofficial
Summary: You are a test pilot and astronaut for NASA in the year 2080, leading a 500 year expedition to the Kepler-186 system. Earth is in the grips of uncontrolled global warming, and the only thing left to do that will cement a continuation of humanity is to send a crew and a massive amount of genetic material to restart civilization elsewhere. Things go catastrophically wrong, and systems begin to shut down, although the shutdown order is designed to keep the leader of the expedition alive as long as possible. By chance, a certain drifter encounters a very old derelict ship just outside the Kepler-186 system, and it contains a single life sign.
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader, Ezra (Prospect 2018)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Part of you couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Decades of planning and hard work put in by a massive team of people beginning before you were even born, years of training and flight hours for you, and finally it was coming to fruition. You knew this could be the beginning of something huge;  _ the salvation of the human race, _ as it were. That was no small feat.

Now, though, in the year 2080, success was all but required. Were you to fail, humanity would be killed by the very planet it tried its hardest to snuff out. Earth was burning alive, weather was becoming more extreme, people were becoming harder to feed, there were massive water shortages, sea levels were rising and displacing huge portions of the population, which was now 10 billion strong, capitalism and deregulation ran rampant, and no one who could do anything about it seemed to care. That is, except for what was left of NASA.

NASA had been all but replaced by private companies, save for one project. The Genesis program. Their ultimate plan was to send a team of pioneers to the nearby Kepler-186 system, specifically to the planet Kepler-186f, to more or less restart humanity in a new place. The team of 80 people would be sent with a massive cache of genetic information in the form of egg and sperm cells, along with state of the art incubation technology, and the hope that some of the team would be willing to volunteer. After a 561 year journey at standard lightspeed, the team would arrive, settle, and begin again. The mission would also carry an experimental quantum entanglement communicator that would, hopefully, allow both the ship and the settlement to be in connection with Earth without the 561 year time lag.

After ten successful missions testing all of the technologies required for this program to succeed, Genesis 11 was ready to launch, and you were her captain.

You’d spent years of your life as a test pilot and astronaut for NASA. You wanted nothing more than to help save humanity, and it seemed they were the only ones who were actually doing anything about it. As soon as you could, you signed up for the Genesis program, and trained your ass off to meet every qualification and then some. That’s how you became captain, pilot, head navigator,  _ leader _ of the first voyage to Kepler-186. And here you were, sitting strapped into the cockpit of the Genesis 11 awaiting liftoff. NASA hasn’t really changed much in their ways when it comes to liftoff procedures.

You waited patiently at T-20 minutes and holding for the 10 minute hold as final measurements and briefings were taking place. You were starting to get antsy, and you were sure the other 79 people aboard were as well.

“Longest three hours and change of my life,” your second in command, and head of the medical staff, grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Only three hours and change? This has been the longest month… no, three months of my life,” you countered, turning to your right to look at the man in question. His name was Anthony McCoy, and despite his grumpy exterior, he was a pretty nice guy. You’d grown fairly close over the last several years preparing for this mission.

“Alright, fair enough,” he agreed, shrugging a bit, a hint of a smile spreading across his face.

“T minus twenty minutes and counting,” launch control announced, and you took a deep, steadying breath.

You did your part of this step in the launch process, flipping a handful of switches to begin transitioning the onboard computers to launch configuration. This was familiar, seeing as though you’d done the launch part of this mission hundreds of times in training and a handful in the earlier missions. But anxiety and excitement curled in your stomach as you remembered you were in this one for the long haul. You chatted back and forth with mission and launch control, some playful banter, some actual checking in and ensuring steps were done correctly. Once everything was transitioned to launch configuration, artificial gravity generators and life support systems were tested and given the all clear, and the personnel cabin vent valves were closed, eleven minutes had passed.

“T minus nine minutes and holding,” launch control announced. “All stations, stand by for final go/no-go.”

You held your breath as the go/no-go launch polls finished up.

“All systems nominal, Genesis you are go for launch,” the voice crackled in your ear, and you grinned. “T minus nine minutes and counting.”

The access arm retracted, the auxiliary power units started, the boosters were armed, the oxygen vent arm retracted, and at T-2 minutes, you and your team closed and locked the visors on your suits. The lights dimmed briefly as Genesis was transferred from ground to internal power, and…

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…” The main engine started. “Six, five, four, three, two, one. Ignition, and liftoff.”

You felt an incredible amount of force push you back into your seat as you had many times before. To be entirely fair, experiencing 3 Gs isn’t something you really get used to. Somehow, though, it felt heavier than it had, knowing the survival of an entire species rested on your shoulders.

Once out of Earth’s orbit, then using a helpful slingshot boost from the Moon, Genesis 11 entered lightspeed, and you successfully began your journey to Kepler-186. The first part of the journey was a year long stint of being awake, ensuring the ship was working properly. For the next 10 years, you would have the ability to abort mission if the need arose, but after the extensive planning and testing done by the last ten missions, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be needed. In that year, you got to know the other 79 people aboard the Genesis, and grew close with all of them. NASA does know how to put together a team. Head of research, Susanna Gibson, was quickly becoming a close friend; you’d only met a handful of times before launch. Head of security, Blair Janssens, was… friendly to you, if not a little standoffish, which you honestly expected of someone who was in charge of, well, what they were in charge of. McCoy’s team was made up of 20 people total, Susanna had the biggest team at 35 total, Blair’s was close to the smallest at just 15, which left the 9 people on the team that handled everything from maintenance, to engineering, to cooking meals for the folks on board. That team didn’t have a particular leader since they all had their own specialties, though Desmond Thomas seemed to be the go-to of the group. Of course, you had to know the ins and outs of the last team’s jobs, seeing as you’d be awake during the mission more than any of them.

Daily check-ins with mission control showed everything was going well; beyond that, the on-board QEC was working as intended and you didn’t have to rely on radio or other electromagnetic waves to communicate (which would’ve been an impossibility, anyway; your ship moving at lightspeed would’ve kept pace with the signals Earth was trying to send, and the signals would never have caught up.)

At the end of the year, you and the medical team began the process of putting everyone in cryostasis. You were the only one trained to put yourself into stasis, as you were going to be the only one waking up every 75 years to ensure the mission was still going as planned, so you were the last to be put to sleep.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you in… five and a half centuries,” McCoy said, climbing in his pod. “Hey, don’t let the few weeks you’ll be up alone get to you. I don’t want to wake up and see you’ve gone crazy.”

You laughed. “No worries, McCoy, I’ll wake you up if I need anything,” you teased.

“You better not, this is gonna be the best sleep I’ll ever get in my life,” he told you, laughing back.

“I know you need your beauty rest,” you responded. “You’re gonna look like a goddamn supermodel when I see you next.”

Well, you weren’t wrong, in a sort of morbidly funny way that you were sure McCoy would appreciate. He would be… very bony.

You took one last look around the ship before you put yourself in stasis. It was eerily quiet now, with the other crew members in deep freeze. It was darker than you expected at lightspeed, no infinite starfields to see out the windows. Beyond just eerily quiet, it was damn near  _ silent _ , save for the occasional groan of the engines or creak of the hull. It gave you an uneasy feeling that you couldn’t quite explain, though you chalked it up to the pressure of this mission.

That uneasy feeling didn’t go away when you woke up 10 years later for your first check-in with mission control. It was off pattern, but necessary; it was the last chance to abort the mission, and an extra safety step to ensure everything was going smoothly. Waking up from cryostasis was the worst; it was cold, you were stiffer than all hell, you were nauseous, and it took several hours to get your feet back under you. You went to the crew quarters and to your cabin, where you showered and dressed, before you made your way to the kitchen and forced yourself to drink a shitty cup of coffee and a meal replacement smoothie. Solid food wasn’t advisable for a bit after you woke up. Once you were back on top of things, you made your way to the bridge and powered up the comms and sat in the captain’s chair.

“Mission control, this is Genesis 11. Dragonfly checking in for the ten year checkpoint,” you said once the comms connected. Dragonfly had been your callsign for a while, since those you worked with figured out you were working so hard to be part of this mission. Dragonflies had incredibly long migration paths, and it sounded a lot better than “Arctic tern,” the bird with the longest.

“Genesis 11, this is mission control. All systems look good on this end, how are things on yours?” mission control asked. Not the voice you were expecting, but one you recognized from the start of the mission. This wasn’t entirely surprising; time was passing for them, just as it was for you, except they were actually noticing it.

“Nominal, all systems are where they should be,” you answered. “Can’t believe it’s been ten years.”

There was a pause from mission control. “Neither can we, Dragonfly. Things aren’t looking good here.”

“Are they not looking good in the way we expected, at least?” you asked, a bit deflated at that announcement.

“We do at least have that going for us. We’ll check in again tomorrow, mission control out.”

“Sounds good. Dragonfly out,” you responded, shutting off the comms. You sighed, looking around again. You had to be awake in this silence for a week. But, you were trained for it, and you had backlogs of data to sort through, and then backlogs of movies and TV shows you could watch to keep you company.

The week passed uneventfully, and you went back to sleep. Your next stint awake was at 75 years into the mission. It was slightly more involved, with checks on the cryostasis pods, the genetic material, doing some chores and maintenance aboard the ship, and checking in with mission control. You still had backlogs of data to sort through, though you had the help of the on board computers in assessing the data for any irregularities or error codes, so despite the uptick in time passed, you didn’t have that much more work to do. After all of your tasks were complete and you had stayed up the required week, you went back into cryostasis.

You woke up again 75 years later for your second check in. Mission control had been, at this point, entirely replaced with new folks. Strange how only a few minutes seemed to have passed for you and the crew, yet a lifetime and a half had passed for everyone else back on Earth. The gist you got from your chat with mission control was that Earth had experienced a number of political and social upheavals that you and the crew would have to hash out when everyone was awake. Earth was still being absolutely ravaged by global warming, despite some good efforts on the parts of a few groups. To say things weren’t looking good was an understatement. But, you decided that processing everything that had happened was a task for future you, when you had the support of other living, breathing human beings in your presence.

Of course, you didn’t know that you wouldn’t get the chance.

After a week of the same chores as last time, you went back into stasis. 57 years into your fourth nap, 208 years into the mission, a critical error occurred. The ship’s computer was supposed to wake you up in the event of something like this, and it tried, but it failed. The error, for whatever reason, triggered the ship to enter a fuel conservation mode, which shut down cryostasis pods to save power, beginning with the maintenance team, then security, then the research staff, then the medical staff. It was to leave you and the genetic material alive as long as possible, but to prioritize your life over the genetic material if need be. 368 years into the mission, the final shutdown of the genetic material vaults occurred.

You were the only survivor of Genesis 11.

* * *

Hekate. There’s a reason this system was named such, after an ancient goddess associated with tombs and the underworld. It seemed promising, even to Earth scientists hundreds of years ago, but nearly everyone who attempted to permanently settle here ended up dead one way or another. The planets outside the habitable zone were useless, and the singular planet within the habitable zone had terrible, unpredictable weather with gravity that was less than forgiving to boot. Of course, though, that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything valuable on its surface.

The planet was named Hekabe. It had massive oceans dotted with lush islands, but it was also home to some of the largest hurricanes any living species has recorded, and shockingly frequent tsunamis. Also on the planet, however, was a plant deemed valuable by certain cultures for its supposed medicinal properties. Whether or not it worked was… debatable, most assuredly, but it didn’t so much matter when it brought in quite the pretty penny.

At least, that’s what Ezra was initially on his way to search for and harvest as his ship neared the system in question. Instead, his scanners on his ship indicated what might be a far more lucrative expedition. A ship, derelict by the looks of it, drifting on a path vaguely in the direction of Gale, the fourth planet in the system, one of the useless ones. Interesting, he thought. Surely they couldn’t have been going there on purpose.

Ezra reckoned he had plenty of time to check this point of interest out and still be able to make it to Hekabe to harvest some cinder violet. He ran a hand through his hair and corrected course, focusing his scanners on the ship in question. It appeared to be nonfunctional with no power output, except… no, there was power output, an extremely small signature, and… one, lone life sign.

“Peculiar,” Ezra mumbled to himself, briefly wondering if this was some sort of trap, but the closer he got to the ship, the more information his scanners could give him. The ship looked… old, the design so outdated he couldn’t quite place it. How was there anyone still alive in this ship? Unless someone beat him to the punch and was already stripping the thing for scrap and parts, but there was no other ship in range that could’ve docked with it.

Ezra flipped a few switches and began his approach towards the ship. “Well, I never could deny myself a good mystery.”


	2. Chapter 2

Docking with this mysterious ship was more difficult than Ezra had anticipated. The ports were odd, likely due to its age, and thanks to the lack of power, he had to figure out how to manually open the airlock. Once his suit was on and secured, he heaved open the airlock. He was met with darkness, which he had anticipated somewhat, but the darkness was… unsettling, even for him. Not threatening, exactly, but it gave the sense that something terrible happened within it.

Nonetheless, Ezra pressed on. If nothing else, he could nab some scrap metal and parts and be on his way. Maybe he could even snag some data from the ship’s computers if they were operational enough. Information was also valuable these days.

Ezra dropped into the derelict ship awkwardly, thanks to the discrepancy in artificial gravity between the two ships. So, this vessel had enough power to keep the artificial gravity generators going, but… Ezra looked at the gauge on his oxygen filter, and saw he was drawing entirely from his personal tank. Not enough power to keep on life support. Curious. Maybe that single life sign he saw was a mistake, or in a secluded part of the ship? He looked around to get his bearings, turning on the flashlight on his suit to assist with navigating the foreign hallways.

Taking the remote scanner off of his toolbelt, Ezra started in the direction of the slight power draw and life sign. This ship looked like it was designed to be lived in; it was far more spacious than a ship made only to get people from point A to point B. Maybe a space station? Or some kind of freighter? But no freighter Ezra had ever been on looked like this. He was still unclear as to exactly how old this ship was, but it felt like it hadn’t had its halls walked in lifetimes. Hollow, forgotten,  _ lonely _ .

Ezra passed what appeared to be some kind of kitchen and dining area. He could imagine the people sitting at the tables, laughter filling the air. What happened here? Who did this ship belong to?

Deciding those were the questions he wanted to attempt to find the answers to first, he continued down the hallway in an attempt to find some sort of computer access point or control room to see if he couldn’t find this ship’s logs. Being careful to keep stock of landmarks and which hallways he’d already been down, which was no cake walk in the dark, he eventually found something he could interface with in a room that looked like a medical bay.

“Here we are,” Ezra muttered to himself, attempting to boot up the computer. As it came to life, a stylized logo reading “Genesis 11” appeared on the monitor. Perhaps the name of the ship? If it was, that’s a very, very old naming convention. The screen then displayed a low power mode menu, which gave several options, one of which was to access the data logs. He attempted to open them, but it asked for a username and password that he didn’t have the equipment to crack at the moment. He went back to the main screen then, looking through what he could do. Attempting to reboot the systems and bring the ship back to full power required the captain’s permission, which again, he didn’t have. It would allow him to turn on emergency life support, however, so he elected to at least do that.

Rumbles echoed through the halls as the life support systems came back online. Dim emergency lights flicked on along the walls, making it infinitely easier to navigate. He turned his attention back to the computer screen, watching as it showed a simple loading bar to communicate how far along the life support power-up was. It was much slower than he was used to, though whether it was due to its age or simple disuse he wasn’t sure.

As soon as life support was all the way back online, he removed his helmet, opting to save some of his own oxygen in favor of what was on this massive vessel. Attaching it to the back of his suit, he continued on, returning back to the remote scanner he’d brought to track this life sign. He was close already, it appeared, being in this medical bay. After a short walk across a hallway and through a couple sets of doors, he found himself met with a room lined with pods of some sort. He approached one closest to the door, and saw that any power it may have had was shut off, any panels that may have given any information dark and untouched. He glanced up, seeing a window on the front of this pod, and leaned up to see if he could see anything inside.

Through the glare of his flashlight on the glass, he couldn’t see anything. Adjusting the light, hoping that would help, the pod still appeared to be empty. He furrowed his brow, confused at its apparent lack of occupancy. Ezra turned around, and approached another pod. This time, rather than nothing, he was met with a bare human skull. He let out a disappointed sigh.

This was, however, an interesting discovery nonetheless. For one, these were stasis pods of some kind. For two, this ship had been adrift, and its occupants dead, long enough that the remains were just bones, no rotting flesh to be seen. With his curiosity further piqued, Ezra took a step back from the pod he was currently investigating, mumbling some sort of condolence to the long-dead traveler, and continued down the long hall of identical beds-turned-caskets.

Towards the end of the room, he finally located the slight power draw. A pod with the lights of its panel still on. And, hopefully, the life sign. Ezra’s heart began to race as he approached, excited to find answers to his questions, but also a bit nervous as to what he might discover. The thought crossed his mind that technically, he wasn’t supposed to be here. It didn’t feel like a trap, though, and at this point, he was too far in to back out.

He tapped on the touchscreen panel on the side of the pod, and it flickered to life. He attempted to look into the small window at the front, but it was frosted over.  _ Cryostasis _ . That was considered outdated, dangerous technology nowadays. This once again begged the question, how old was this ship?

The screen displayed vital signs, showing that whoever was in this pod was alive and well. Ezra tapped around for a few moments, eventually finding the emergency revival process to run. He backed away for a moment, waiting for the pod to do its job and wake up its occupant safely.

Waking up was never really a pleasant process, even from just regular sleep, but waking up from cryostasis was a million times worse than that. Still, though, the past several times you’ve woken up, it hadn’t been  _ too _ bad. This time though? This time it felt like you’d gotten hit by a truck or something. You were stiffer than usual, a little dizzy, much more nauseated than you had been. You didn’t think anything of it as the door to your stasis pod hissed open, sighing in relief as the warm air from outside the pod rushed in to meet your chilled skin. You grasped the sides of the pod and hoisted yourself out, stumbling a bit as you blinked your eyes open and stretched, trying to get rid of this stiffness in your limbs.

Ezra cleared his throat, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

The first thing your brain registered was that someone was awake before you. “I was supposed to be the first up,” you said quickly. “What happened? Is something wrong?” You were not used to having to think and make actual decisions this soon after you’ve woken up. Your brain was running about five seconds behind. After you’d asked these questions, and just as the man you were speaking to opened his mouth to try to answer, you made another realization. With that very distinct patch of blond hair on his head, you felt like if you knew this man, you would recognize him. “I… don’t recognize you. Are you from this party? Or did you… meet us? We knew that was a possibility, it  _ was _ five hundred years, but--”

“Excuse me for interrupting, but it seems we both have a litany of questions we’d like to have answered,” he said, holding up a hand and offering a friendly smile. His voice was like hot coffee to your thoroughly chilled soul, and you nearly gasped at hearing it. He had a southern drawl that you would love to hear more of, though at present, you were afraid of what it might tell you. “Why don’t we get you warmed up, and we can discuss this?”

You took a deep breath, ready to argue against his suggestion, to demand answers, but you stopped yourself short as you looked around the room. All of the pods were exactly where you left them, and they were all dark. Panic started to bubble in your chest.  _ They’re all dead. _ You exhaled, and your next breath was much shallower. You rushed over to the pod that once held your second in command and friend, McCoy. Through the window you could only see deteriorating skeletal remains. You looked out through the doors this man must’ve come in, and saw only the emergency lights were still on. You looked back at the man standing before you, and saw the concern laced in his features.

“Who are you?” you asked, quietly, though still severely, unsure of his intentions given your immediate situation.

“My name is Ezra,” he said, holding up his hands a bit. He could tell you wanted to make sure he wasn’t a threat. “I stumbled across this ship on my way to Hekabe for a run at harvesting. I mean you no harm.”

“Hekabe? Harvesting?” you asked, before shaking your head. “Ezra. What… what year is it?”

Ezra gave you a look like he was sure you weren’t going to like the answer. “It is currently 2607, using standard Earth years.”

2607\. 34 years before you were supposed to be permanently awake. 376 years, five entire check-ins since you were last awake. That panic that was bubbling in your chest turned ice cold, and your body felt hollow. You collapsed to the floor, and Ezra rushed over to make sure you weren’t injured. He helped you sit up, but didn’t move to make you stand, at least not yet. Your mind felt like it was full of static; you were trying to process too many thoughts at once. Tears welled in your eyes, from grief, from being overwhelmed, from panic, from fear.

“I was last awake in 2231,” you said, quietly, staring at the floor ahead of you. “I was supposed to wake up again in 2306. Then again in 2381. Then 2456, and 2531, and 2606. Then in 2641 we were supposed to make it to Kepler-186f.”

“When did you commence this journey?” Ezra asked, matching your quiet tone.

“2080,” you answered, looking over at him.

Ezra looked surprised, then nodded. “You’ve flown a long way, little bird,” he said, his brow furrowing in concern. “I take it you don’t know what occurred here, then.”

You shook your head. You looked away from him, back at the room full of pods. You then made to stand up, but you gave yourself a bad case of tunnel vision in the process. Ezra helped you stay upright, though, and you started walking towards the medical bay so you could get one of those shitty meal replacement smoothies and a cup of coffee. You also intended to use the terminal you knew was in there to sift through the data logs, if they were still running, to figure out what the hell happened. You wanted to know. You needed to know. You needed to know what caused the deaths of the 79 people under your command. Ezra followed.

“If I may, what should I call you?” he asked as you crossed the threshold into the med bay.

You gave him your name, seeing no reason not to. “I am--well…  _ was _ the captain of this ship. Most people call me Dragonfly, though.”

“Dragonfly,” he said, as if testing the feel of your callsign on his tongue. “So long as this vessel’s still afloat and you are still aboard her, I believe you are still captain, if that’s any consolation.”

You gave Ezra a look, unsure how to respond. On one hand, that was… somewhat comforting, that you still had some semblance of control, but it didn’t change what had happened. You dragged a chair over to the terminal you needed to use, which Ezra identified as the one he’d used to turn back on life support, and sat down with one of the smoothies in hand. Room temperature. Gross, but you needed to put something in you. You brought the screen to life, and typed in your credentials, opening the data logs. You scrolled through, everything looking normal until…

“The fuck do you mean, ‘unknown?’” you muttered to yourself, opening the entry from 2288 to find more details. Usually the computer was smart enough to piece together what events had occurred along the way, but for it to claim something was unknown… that was strange. Ezra was looking around the medical bay, giving you space, but still investigating what he could. You supposed that this was something like a museum for him, seeing as though everything in the ship was over 500 years old at this point.

The data the logs gave you looked… bad. Off the charts bad. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots on what it was based on a few select readings, though; a gamma ray burst. Nothing anyone could have predicted. It appeared to be a short duration GRB, but still long enough to cause a perfect storm that led to… this.

_ Running emergency wakeup process… _

_ Process failed. Attempting again… _

_ Process failed. Attempting again… _

The attempts went on for a long time. You had to hand it to whoever designed this particular failsafe. They really wanted to make sure they tried to wake you up. You scrolled through the logs some more.

_ Connection to Cryostasis Hub interrupted. Running repair… _

_ Repair failed. Calculating remaining travel time… _

_ Error connecting to Navigation Hub. Unable to calculate remaining travel time. _

_ Beginning emergency fuel conservation and shutdown procedures. _

The GRB must have broken the connection between the hubs. The navigation computers were designed to keep the ship going in the correct direction even if it lost contact with the rest of the hubs, so you likely were still on course, but it was also designed to stop short of your destination if it hadn’t had contact with the other hubs in a set amount of time. That’s probably why Ezra was able to board the ship. But, that’s also why fuel conservation kicked in; the ship had no idea how much longer it was going to take, so it defaulted to preserving fuel in case the ship was knocked far enough off course it needed the extra energy to get back on track.

You were still reeling from this discovery, and you hadn’t quite processed that you were the only one that survived. You just felt… numb. Another question crept into your mind, though, despite the fact getting more bad news was likely not the best idea. You looked up from the computer and over at Ezra, who was investigating a vacuum-sealed pack of medical supplies of some sort.

“What’s Earth like now?” you asked, almost timidly. Based on what you and mission control had talked about 376 years ago, you didn’t anticipate he had good news for you.

Ezra looked away from the foil pack he was holding to look at you, then sighed as he set it down. “Earth has been uninhabitable for a few hundred years now,” he informed you. Your heart sank somehow further. “After the mass fleeing of folks from the Sol system, though, corporations had a field day. No more people, no more regulations. They likely inflicted irreparable harm to the planet, made it so toxic and hazardous even they couldn’t stay there. But, that hasn’t stopped a few persistent groups from going back in recent years with the intention of trying to fix things.”

You nodded solemnly, having expected something like that, but you still felt undeniable disappointment. “You said mass fleeing from the solar system,” you observed. “How did that happen?”

“Sometime in I believe the 2230s, so likely around the time you were last awake, humanity developed faster than light travel,” Ezra explained.

“We did?” you asked, allowing yourself to feel a minuscule shred of excitement about this revelation.

“Indeed,” he said. “Lightspeed and FTL travel became widely accessible shortly thereafter. It made escaping the deterioration of our home planet much more successful than it would have been otherwise.”

You nodded. At least humanity survived. “I suppose the Genesis Program wasn’t leading the charge on that,” you guessed.

“Regretfully, this is the first I’ve ever heard of a Genesis Program,” Ezra responded.

You sighed, and chewed your bottom lip. Now what? You were ready to start a settlement on a new planet, not… re-integrate into a new society that had advanced without you. You had no idea what would await you outside this ship, but you were still itching to get off of it. Simply being here was too much. Of course, you’d been briefly trained for a worst case scenario like this, but you all agreed it was so unlikely you would need it you never paid it much mind. Besides, at this point, all you could do was… move on. There were likely no next of kin to notify, and if there were, they were so many generations removed that they wouldn’t have any idea who you were talking about. All you had now was… memories, and a new weight on your shoulders. Even with this man who found you, you were alone.

Hopefully Ezra would be willing to help you. At least take you somewhere. You wouldn’t blame him if he threw you to the wolves, he likely didn’t have this sort of thing in mind when he wandered aboard the Genesis 11.

You glanced back at the terminal. “I wish there was a way for me to download all this data. The computers may have some useful information on them, still,” you said. “And… some connections to home.”

Ezra nodded. “I understand. Though, I may have a solution for you,” he said. “I have an OSD with me, and I’m sure we can rig it to connect to your computers.”

You blinked. “An OSD?”

“Optical storage disk,” Ezra answered. “I only have one, but it should have enough room.”

You scoffed. “More than 500 years of data and you think you can fit it on a flash drive?”

Ezra gave you a small smile. “I believe, back in your day, a terabyte of data was still quite a lot. Currently, a zettabyte is a fairly standard measure. This OSD can hold about 200.”

Alright, well, technology has advanced quite considerably in the past 500 years. You should’ve expected that, maybe. You just nodded. “Okay, well, fair enough. Let’s, um… I’ll show you where we keep the data storage.”

You led Ezra out of the med bay, finishing off your less than appetizing smoothie as you walked. It was a bit of a trek across the ship, so you took the opportunity to ask some more questions.

“You said you were on your way to… Hekabe?” you asked.

“I am,” Ezra affirmed.

“So… where is this ship now?” you asked.

“Just inside the Hekate system,” he answered.

“That’s an awfully confusing naming choice,” you muttered. “That doesn’t happen to be the current name for Kepler-186, is it?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a five planet star system, and from my understanding it had fairly hopeful prospects back in the day, though once people arrived they realized the planet within the habitable zone wasn’t fit for human life,” Ezra said.

Five planet system with one planet in the habitable zone. “That sounds like Kepler-186,” you responded. “Kepler-186f, the fifth planet in the system, is where we were headed to settle and restart humanity, had the... mission succeeded.” You looked over your shoulder at Ezra, who had a now-grim look on his face.

“It appears you may have been set up for failure from the start, Dragonfly,” he said. “That is Hekabe. It holds life, but those who try to settle there are typically dead within a few months. The weather is atrocious, and destructive tsunamis haunt its shores.”

That wasn’t what you were hoping to hear, either. “I see.” Your eyes narrowed, then, realizing he was heading there despite those things. “Then why are you going?”

“One can survive on its surface for a short time,” he explained. “There is a plant that grows there, the cinder violet, that holds cultural importance to some groups of people. It is incredibly valuable, and worth the danger.”

You nodded in understanding as you arrived at the data storage room, then typed in your credentials to the lock to open the doors. You had to pass through two of them, both ridiculously heavy. The people who designed this didn’t want anything happening to the data, so the room was lined with particularly thick insulation that would keep out any stray radiation that may otherwise corrupt it. You now wished they’d put that insulation in more places, but unfortunately, weight was a huge issue in space travel. Once you were both inside, you logged in to another computer terminal, and set out to find some supplies you could use to rig up the drive Ezra had to the ports on the computer. You found some data cables and some other spare wire, a few tools, and an old data card that might get you somewhere.

“I believe I can handle this,” Ezra said. “I don’t believe your hardware has changed that much, at least in form factor. Humans are stubborn creatures, not the biggest fans of change.”

You smiled at that. “Perhaps not as much has changed as I fear,” you said. “I, um, hate to impose, but I have no way off this ship, and I’d rather not be stranded here until I die. Would you… take me with you? Somewhere?”

“I’d be happy to,” Ezra responded. “You aren’t imposing at all. I still intend to make my stop at Hekabe to harvest, so you’ll have to make one stop there. After that, I can take you wherever you wish to go.”

For now, that answer would suffice. You figured you’d have time to figure out where you wished to go between now and your stop on Hekabe. “Thank you,” you said. “I… don’t know that I’d really have any other choice.”

“Of course,” Ezra said, smiling pleasantly as he inspected one port on the computer and the port on his drive, which he produced from one of the many pockets on his suit. “While I’m rigging this up, why don’t you go gather any personal belongings? I don’t imagine you came here empty-handed.”

You nodded, and left to do just that. You hadn’t brought much with you, some clothes, a few trinkets, things to remind you of your family and friends back home. It was all stowed in your quarters. You walked the halls of Genesis 11, and you felt a deeper, more cutting sense of loneliness. You were the sole survivor of this mission. McCoy was dead. Susanna was dead. Blair was dead. Desmond was dead. Everyone from the era you came from was gone. You were an ancient relic walking. You hoped you could settle into the era you found yourself in with ease. You had a lot of history to catch up on.

You arrived at your quarters and began gathering your things, all in a box; any clothes and soft, collapsible items like that had been vacuum packed to save precious space, and anything that couldn’t was small enough to fit inside. You grabbed it, checked quickly for any other items you may have missed, and made your way back to Ezra. You set the box down just outside the room.

“I have my things,” you said.

Ezra looked up from his work, now a slightly convoluted tangle of wires and electrical tape. “I’m not quite done, but I will be in a few moments. I recommend you also bring a suit for inhospitable planetside environments, and a pair of work gloves, if you have them.”

“Is a suit graded for spacewalks acceptable?” you asked. It was a sincere question, you had no idea what to expect.

“That will do perfectly,” Ezra answered.

You left again, this time to go towards the maintenance office and the storage room where the colony setup supplies were kept. There would be gardening supplies in the storage room, and likely some work gloves among them. There may also be some in the maintenance office, and that is where the suits were kept. After some digging, you located the work gloves. You grabbed a suit on your way back to the data storage room, and when you arrived, Ezra looked… almost excited.

“Did you get it to work?” you asked, hopeful you’d be able to take this data with you to analyze. You’d like to pick up the pieces and figure out exactly what happened, not just the preliminary assessment you’d made earlier.

“Indeed I did. Your computers contain much more than raw data, however,” Ezra said. “You have quite the media library. Including books.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, we can take that too, if you want,” you responded. “It’s just… old movies and TV shows, books, some manuals and what NASA considered ‘important nonfiction.’”

Ezra shook his head. “It is not  _ just _ those things, Captain. The vast majority of this library is incredibly difficult to come by these days. It may not be the most valuable thing in the galaxy, but it’s up there.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, watching as Ezra undid some of his work to unhook the now-full OSD from the computers.

“I would be more than happy to give you a history lesson a bit later, but... the abridged reason comes down to the fact humans have always been and will always be greedy and power hungry, and once they are in power, they will do everything and anything to stay there,” Ezra supplied. “There was a short-lived empire across the galaxy some time ago, and it effectively destroyed any media it considered a threat to its power, all of this,” he said, holding up the OSD, “included.”

You sighed. “Of course. Not much has changed at all, then.”

“For better or worse,” Ezra agreed. “Now, Captain, I believe we are ready to depart if  _ you _ are ready to do so.”

You took a deep breath, then looked around the room you were in, picturing the rest of the ship around you. Despite the issues, it did get you where you needed to go, you’ll give it that. You silently bid a goodbye to the friends you’d made on this mission, apologizing for their deaths. You straightened your posture, squared your shoulders, and looked at Ezra, then nodded.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
